


Barrow's Coffee

by alesca_munroe



Series: Barrow's Coffee Shop AU [1]
Category: Unseen - Long Story Short Productions (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Cameo by Time: Bombs, Multi, Radio Bob Special, Sorry Not Sorry, Swearing, someone had to do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28604688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesca_munroe/pseuds/alesca_munroe
Summary: Harry Winter knows three things:-Addison LaValle is going to take over the world one day, but, like, in a nice way-Taylor and Olive are the cutest couple to ever exist-Edmond LaValle needs to Wonder Woman up already and ask out the professor with the tattoos and skinny jeans instead of asking him riddlesWhat she doesn't know is what she wants to do with the rest of her life.Right then.  Welcome to Barrow's Coffee.  Care to try the special?
Relationships: Anthony Greerson/Edmond LaValle, Olive Hamby/Taylor (Unseen)
Series: Barrow's Coffee Shop AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120031
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	1. Welcome to Barrow's

**Author's Note:**

> Look, someone was going to do it eventually. Well, maybe not my crack pairing du jour, but the coffee shop au.

Harry Winter loves opening up the coffee shop in the mornings. She loves the quiet, the peace, the surreality of a normally crowded place so empty-

"Mornings are the _worst_ ," Olive groans, shuffling in behind Harry and flipping on the lights. "The _sun_ isn't even up yet."

Harry laughs. "Oh come on, Olive. It's winter; of course the sun isn't up yet. The sooner we get everything up and running, the sooner you can have coffee."

"I should've become a bartender." Despite the complaints, Olive shucks her coat in the back room, ties on an apron, and gets to work. 

Olive grumbles to the stuffed parrot that migrated from the lost and found to the register, and Harry starts pulling down the chairs from on top of the tables. Olive will be in a better mood once she finds the note Taylor left her by the espresso machine- despite living together, Taylor still leaves Olive these notes whenever she works the closing shift. It's really cute.

Barrow's is the best coffee shop in New Albion, bar none. It has character, plenty of comfortable seating, and a bookcase in the corner that Harry peruses whenever there's a lull in business. She'd gave college a go - a couple of goes, actually- but nothing really struck her fancy and, well. Here she is. Mr Barrow is a good, fair boss, and Harry supposes she could be working worse places while she tries to figure out what she wants to do with her life.

"One minute warning!" Olive calls and goes back to chugging the biggest size coffee cup Harry has ever seen. She _thinks_ Taylor meant it as a gag gift, but Olive starts every morning shift with it.

Harry unlocks the front door, flips the sign, and heads behind the counter. As soon as six o clock hits, the customers start trickling in.

"Once more unto the breach," Olive mutters to Harry before putting on her customer service smile and manning the register. "Welcome to Barrow's Coffee. Care to try the special?"

\---

At seven on the dot, Addison LaValle walks in. "Good morning, Councilwoman," Harry says and hands her the bone dry cappuccino she orders every morning.

"Good morning, Harry, Olive," the councilwoman replies with a smile and hands Olive a ten. "I'll see you this afternoon. I have a budget meeting to run here soon."

"Show 'em who's boss!" Olive calls as Councilwoman LaValle walks out and is rewarded with another smile before the woman is gone. Olive looks at Harry. "She scares me but like, it's because she's the least corrupt person I can think of, and she's on the city council. I thought all politicians were dirty."

"I think that's a problem for higher offices," Harry offers and gets the tray of muffins out of the oven. One of these days, Councilwoman LaValle is going to be Mayor LaValle, and then maybe senator, or just skip to running for President. All Harry knows is that _this_ is a woman who knows what she wants in life and will work herself to the bone to get it. They're probably all _very lucky_ that what Addison LaValle wants is a good and just world.

"It won't be a problem when she's running the world," Olive replies.

\---

The morning rush of commuters and students is even better than the stillness before Barrow's opens. Harry loves helping everyone get ready to face work or school. Olive will deny it to her last breath, but it's her favourite part of the day.

Harry's favourite part of the job is the slower moments, when she can help people figure out _just_ the right coffee and snack.

"No, no, I promise. Try _this_ , and if you don't like it, I'll make you anything you like," she tells a college student loaded down with textbooks and stress. She hands over one of their specials with a wink. "C'mon, I remembered you like dark chocolate. This has just the right amount."

And, like most of the times Harry makes a suggestion, she's right. The student pays, lets Olive press a sample of the dark chocolate and cranberry muffin on him, and gets set up in a corner. Neither are surprised when he comes back to get the muffin, too, but at least they're nice enough not to gloat about it. The guy has enough to deal with as it is.

"You," Charlie tells Harry as he walks up, "are ridiculously good at that."

Harry shrugs. "I've been here a bit," she says, which he knows. Charlie has been a regular at Barrow's since long before Harry saw the Help Wanted sign. "What will it be today, Charlie?"

He smiles at her and gives his usual order. "Surprise me."

"One of these days, Olive and Taylor are going to concoct a drink and name it Surprise Me, and then what will you do?" Harry starts the espresso machine and combines a couple different syrups in a cup. By this point, she knows all his favourite flavours and drinks. This is a variant on one of their specials, dubbed Witness for no reason Harry can name. It makes as much sense as the tea latte that Olive named Magic is Real.

"I'm sure whatever they come up with will be good, too," Charlie replies diplomatically. None of them mention finding out he had a peppermint allergy when Olive gave him a festive drink last year.

"Good answer," Olive tells him and makes him try the new muffin, too.

\---

Detective Edmond LaValle comes in randomly, almost never the same time, and, horrifyingly, is the reason they keep chili powder on hand. "I get that some people think it's good," Olive says as she makes his mocha. "But chili powder on a drink will never make sense to me."

Detective LaValle just smiles and opens his mouth to answer-

"Here, let's try a different approach," a man at one of the seats along the counter says to a girl in a college sweatshirt. "Imagine… You're at a lake."

Harry doesn't know the man, just recognizes him from the tutoring sessions he has at Barrow's on occasion. He's a professor of some kind, philosophy, she thinks, and has the most geometrically precise tattoos she has ever seen.

Harry tunes him out and turns to ring up Detective LaValle's chili mocha- but he's staring at the professor with something like...

Harry leans over to Olive, who, unprompted, immediately says, "Yep. Goner."

"Oh good, I thought I was imagining that." Harry takes the detective's credit card out of his slack grasp, and rings up the drink as a size smaller than it is. He needs mercy from some quarter, and the professor does not tend to give it, from what Harry hears of his teaching. She puts the card back in Detective LaValle's hand, and tells him, "Olive will have your drink ready in a moment."

Detective LaValle refocuses on them with a smile and no shame at being caught out. "Ah, thank you, ladies."

After he leaves, Harry looks at Olive. "I did not think that was a real thing."

"At first sight? Sure it is." Olive hefts a bin of dirty cups to put in the dishwasher. "How do you think Taylor and I got together?"

She has a point.


	2. Reinforcements are called

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you telling me because my uncle is too chickenshit to make a move?"
> 
> Introducing Steven Winstead and possibly a dragon.

It would have been fine if that had been the end of it, Harry thinks. Detective LaValle never sees the professor again and it's just another case of missed connections. Or, happier, if Detective LaValle had gone over to talk to the professor like an actual, functional human being.

But no. Harry's life could never be that easy. Instead, over the course of the next week, Detective LaValle and the professor manage to be in the coffee shop at the same time _four more time_ s and never once did Detective LaValle even try to talk to the man.

"This may be forward of me," Taylor says to the detective, "but do you want me to, like, introduce you two? He's my ethics teacher."

"If I have learned one thing in my life," Detective LaValle replies grimly as he takes his chili mocha, "it's never to bother someone while they're reading."

The professor doesn't have a student at his table this time, just a massive old book that Harry is pretty sure isn't even in English. Taylor concedes the point and, again, the detective leaves without so much as making eye contact.

Taylor looks at Olive and says, "We need reinforcements."

Then the couple turns to Harry, who wonders why this is her life. "All right, I'll give him a ring."

\---

In matters regarding the LaValle twins (and _that_ had been a fun moment, when one of the other baristas thought the two were married instead of siblings) Harry's prime source of information is Steven Winstead. Steven, who came to live with Addison LaValle after an incident involving fire and the old family home. Steven is supposedly a third cousin or so, but, considering Detective LaValle came back from picking him up looking suspiciously _charred_ , Harry doesn't quite believe it.

Steven comes to the coffee shop the next day and makes an ostentatious display of proving he doesn't have a lighter on him. "What can I do for you, Harry?" he greets her. "If it's about my uncle's chili thing, I can't help you."

"No, the chili thing is fine," Harry says. She takes a quick glance around the coffee shop and then leans across the counter. "Over by the bookcase, tattoos, big book."

Steven takes a selfie and peers at the man clearly visible in the background. He looks at Harry. "Please do not hit on my philosophy teacher. I don't think he actually goes for anything that isn't an ethics or philosophy debate."

"Oh no. No no no. Nothing like that." Harry pauses. "Well, not quite like that."

"Seriously, Harry, I will _walk into traffic_ -"

"It's possibly…worse." Harry waits for Steven's full attention. "Detective LaValle saw him and um. I think he might be into your professor."

Steven considers this. "Yeah, that's definitely worse. _Why are you telling me_ -"

"Not so loud," Harry hisses at him. "Blimey, do you want the whole shop to know?"

Steven buries his face in his hands. "Are you telling me because my uncle is too chickenshit to make a move?"

"Possibly."

"You owe me coffee."

Harry makes him a coffee.

\---

Harry makes six more drinks and warms up four pastries in between telling Steven what she and the others have seen. "I'm so embarrassed for him," Steven groans.

"For who?" someone asks.

Harry looks up and almost freezes because it's the professor. He tilts his cup towards Harry and asks for a refill before thumping Steven on the back so he'll stop choking. "Thanks, Professor Greerson," Steven manages. "How's life?"

"Trending towards entropy even more each day," Professor Greerson replies with a smile. 

Harry trades the cup back to Professor Greerson in exchange for exact change as usual, and he goes back to his seat. Or would, if Detective LaValle wasn't standing by it and looking at his book. Harry looks at Steven, and then back to that corner pointedly. Steven looks.

"Quite the interesting reading material," Detective LaValle says to Professor Greerson, handing over the book. Harry grips Steven's arm because this might be it, he might finally make a move-

"In fact, it reminds me of a riddle."

And the sad part is, it's _actually a riddle_. Not a pick-up line, not a joke, an honest to God riddle. Professor Greerson considers the riddle and gives an answer that must be correct or at least interesting because Detective LaValle _smiles like the sun_ -

And then he _leaves_.

Harry is about to ask Steven why his uncle is such a failure of a human being when there's a delicate cough from the other end of the counter. L. Sarkana arches an eyebrow. "I would like to order coffee, if you don't mind."

Harry goes to ring her up. Sixteen shots of espresso is a hell of a drink order, but she pays for it in gold dollar coins, drops a few more in the tip jar, and leaves. Steven watches her go. "So, I know there's no such thing as dragons," he says, "but she really makes me think that they might be real."

"Same here, mate."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I didn't warn for swearing before, I'm warning now. Nothing super terrible, just a heads-up

See, the thing is, Harry has tried her hand at a lot of different jobs before Barrow's. Food delivery, supermarket clerk, an unfortunate six months of standing on corners trying to get people to sign petitions, that sort of thing. She has seen her share of relationships starting, continuing, and ending. She has been in a few serious relationships herself, and a handful that were casual fun.

But none of that could have prepared her for watching Detective LaValle interact with Professor Greerson. Every time he sees the professor, Detective LaValle goes up to him and tells him a story or a riddle. And the worst part is, Professor Greerson acts like this is a completely normal thing to do. He even _engages_ , and occasionally asks Detective LaValle a philosophical question in turn, they have a brief chat, and then _they part ways._

“No really, is this flirting?” Olive asks the stuffed parrot one morning. “Is this how old gay men flirt? Fuck, Harry, are we even sure they’re gay?”

“My trial of a brother is absolutely gay and has been since he came out of the womb,” Councilwoman LaValle says as she walks in for her morning cappuccino. “Good morning Harry, Olive. Steven told me about the drama. Is any of it hyperbole?”

“Not even a little,” Olive promises. She winces. “Say, that comment about old people...”

“He likes to remind me he’s twenty-six minutes older than me. You can call him old.”

“You absolutely wound me,” and speak of the devil, that’s Detective LaValle walking right through the door.

Well, maybe _walked_ is a strong word for it. Detective LaValle limps toward the counter with his usual smile, holding one arm stiffly, and, yep, that’s blood. Harry runs for the first aid kit. She can hear from the back room when Councilwoman LaValle starts tearing into him.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Now, is that any way to talk to your brother?”

“Oh pardon me. Edmond. _What the hell did you do_?”

“Oh this is nothing, the EMTs already got a look at me, said I was good to go. The press release will be on your desk by the time you get to the office.”

“Sit down before you fall down. And I’m not asking the _PR officer_ , I’m asking _you_.”

“I ran into a little trouble following up on a lead, Addison. I’ve had worse- _you_ have had worse, in case you forgot those years we were on the force together.” 

Harry comes out with the first aid kit, even if Detective LaValle said he was fine. His sister has forced him into one of the armchairs and is eyeing him critically, purse and coffee forgotten on the counter. Detective LaValle just keeps smiling at his sister, small and fond. Reassuring. “Addison. I turned my ankle and wrenched my shoulder a bit. I have a few scrapes. It’s fine. I just wanted to let you see me in person so you wouldn’t get the briefing and imagine the worst.”

“Between the two of us, _I’m_ not the pessimist,” Councilwoman LaValle retorts.

“Very well, _I_ was worried the news would distract you from more important things.”

Councilwoman LaValle looks like she very much would like to hit her brother, but only restrains herself because they are in public. “Come on, then. I’m taking you to the house. Steven doesn’t have class today and he can make sure you don’t injure yourself even further.”

Detective LaValle protests even as his sister levers him out of the chair, grabs her coffee and purse, and starts dragging him to the door. “Addison, I have work-”

“You’re taking a personal day.”

“You’ll be late for _your_ work.”

“If the council knows what’s good for them,” Addison says as she gets outside, “they won’t start without me.”

Then the door shuts and it’s only Harry and Olive once again. "Well," Harry says after a moment. "I'll make sure he didn't get blood on anything. You get the scones into the oven."

"Well, Mr Bird," Olive says to the stuffed parrot as she picks up the baking tray. "At least it's never boring."

\---

"I am conflicted," Steven says, face buried in his hands. "Greerson is _fucking insane_ but it's not like Edmond is rocking a full bag of marbles either and Addison is _no help at all_."

"Mate, if I had a twin, I wouldn't want to know what they were up to behind closed doors either," Charlie offers. He keeps sketching out possible designs for a new client at his advertising firm.

"You don't _know_ these two, Charlie; the LaValle twins are _constantly_ in each other's business. One time, Addison took a spur of the moment vacation to Paris and Edmond _followed her_ because she didn't tell him about it and he thought something was _wrong_."

"Wait, was that the time with the-"

"Public works vote," Harry confirms. "The rest of the council wanted to cut the budget for public works. Addison LaValle came back from Paris and argued with the rest of the council for a solid week. By the time she finished with them, she had the support of enough of the council to win the vote."

"Super scary, super amazing," Olive says and they all nod in agreement.

"Know what the worst part about the Paris trip was?" Steven doesn't wait for an answer. "She didn't even go to the one in France. She went to _Texas_."

"Is there anything even _in_ Paris, Texas?" Charlie wonders.

"I feel like that may have been the point, honestly."

Harry goes to the till when L. Sarkana comes into the coffee shop. "You have blood on your floor," L. Sarkana informs Harry. "Over by the armchairs. I would like a large cup of espresso. Space for creamer, thank you."

All this time Harry has been working at Barrow's, she has never figured out what the L stands for. Popular rumor is that it's actually a title. "We'll get that started for you," Harry replies with a professional smile. "And thanks for the heads up."

L. Sarkana heads to the other end of the counter to wait. Professor Greerson is next in line, brow furrowed. "Why is there blood on the floor?"

"Detective LaValle was a little battered when he came in this morning," Harry replies and punches in his usual order. She looks up and smiles a little when Professor Greerson's expression doesn't clear up. "He's fine. His sister made him take the day off anyway, just in case."

"Hmm." Professor Greerson nods and goes to wait for his drink as well. His expression lightens when he sees who else is there. "Hello, Steven. Did you figure out the problem from class?"

"Oh hey, professor. Yeah, I think I have an idea about that; can I pick your brain about it? You got a moment?"

Professor Greerson smiles, a predatory edge to it. Harry can see why his students call him mad. "Careful, Steven, you might have to define a 'moment'."

Harry takes advantage of the lull to check on the blood she was sure she handled this morning. She doesn't see anything, but runs the mop through again. It doesn't hurt to clean again.

When she comes back, Olive says, "Ten bucks on Greerson asking Steven about the detective."

"No dice."


	4. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cameo by Time: Bombs, a bit of a mess, and new beginnings

Olive and Taylor remain the cutest couple that Harry knows. They hold hands and bring each other lunch when they’re not on shift together, and Harry follows them on Instagram and the cuteness goes past the coffee shop doors. Going by this, Harry has _no idea_ how they can’t have any good ideas for dealing with the Greerson/LaValle situation.

“Really, Harry?” Olive asks. “That’s like saying you should have good ideas because you’re bisexual.”

“Bisexuals are disasters; everyone knows that,” Harry scoffs and goes to check their inventory.

“I’m not,” Steven offers. He grabs a seat at the counter, one of the few left in the shop. It’s busy, even for a Friday.

“Not bisexual?” Olive asks and starts ringing up someone’s “Quad long shot, grande, in a venti cup, half-caff, no sleeve, salted caramel mocha latte with five pumps of toffee nut, half whole milk, half soy, extra hot, extra shot, extra foam, extra whip, sugar-free.” “No really,” Olive says to the guy, one of the on-duty cops. “Seriously, we’re not Starbucks, we do normal sizes. And buddy, if you drink this, you will die.”

“It hasn’t killed me yet,” the cop replies with a bright smile. His fellow cop who ordered just a black coffee has his face in his hands like he can’t believe this is still happening to him.

“Far be it from me to tell you how to live your life,” she replies and tells him his total. 

When Olive finishes that monstrosity of a drink, she goes back to Steven, who immediately says, like there hadn’t been a pause, “I’m not a _disaster_ , Olive. C’mon, I know you know I’m bi.”

“Hey, I wasn’t about to slap a label on you.” Olive pauses. “What if your professor isn’t out at work and that’s why there’s no forward movement going on here?”

“Then I’ll feel like an asshole. Greerson doesn’t ever talk about personal things in the classroom; just goes straight into whatever _batshit insanity_ is on the schedule. Meanwhile, Edmond told enough stories about me in the last few years that people think _he_ adopted me and not Addison.” Steven makes a sort of ‘I’m done with this’ motion. “I wash my hands of this, Olive. There’s just some things I don’t want to know about my uncle or my professor.”

“You’ll be back!” Olive calls after him. She turns to where Harry is just coming out of the back office. “C’mon, Steven is absolutely a disaster, right?”

Harry doesn’t answer, just starts ringing Charlie up on auto-pilot. “Harry,” Charlie says slowly. “What’s wrong?”

Harry hands him his coffee and starts heading around the counter. Unfortunately, Charlie starts walking towards the opening in the counter at the same time, and well. There is a crash.

For a second no one says anything. “I’ve got the mop,” Olive offers. “You two, uh, you go get cleaned up, all right?”

\---

“It’s fine,” Charlie tells Harry for probably the fourth time as he dabs at the coffee staining his shirt. “Seriously, it’s not the first time I’ve gotten coffee on my clothes. I’m more worried about _you_.”

Harry sighs and leans against the sink in the employee bathroom. Her apron hangs from the handicap bar against the wall, drying out. “Mr. Barrow offered me a promotion. He wants me to be assistant manager.”

Charlie lights up. “Harry, that’s great! When do you-”

“I don’t know if I want it.” Harry scrubs her hands over her face. “Barrow’s, this place, all of you, you’re amazing. It’s the best job I’ve ever worked. I just don’t know if it’s what I want for, you know, my _career_.”

Charlie considers this as he gives up on his shirt and shrugs it back over his shoulders. “I still don’t know what _I_ want for my career,” he confides as he buttons up.

“Charlie, you’ve been in advertising for, what, ten years?” In all honesty, Harry was pretty sure that Charlie was the only one of them who had their life completely sorted out. Taylor, Olive, and Steven are still in college, Detective LaValle _still_ hasn’t asked out Professor Greerson, and she figures Councilwoman LaValle won’t be sorted until she’s Secretary-General of the United Nations or something.

“That’s right. And I still wonder, sometimes, if it’s what I want to do for the next twenty or fifty years.” Charlie offers her a smile. “I figure, until I decide what else I want to do, I may as well get good at this, you know?”

“Charlie,” Harry says sincerely as she follows him out to the main store again, “that may be the best advice I’ve ever heard.”

\---

"I heard you were injured," Professor Greerson says quietly, almost too quietly for Harry to hear over the espresso machine. It's a Sunday morning and Harry opened alone since they almost never get customers before ten. The fact that she has two customers in the first hour and within minutes of each other is a surprise.

"Just a few bumps and scrapes," Detective LaValle dismisses cheerfully, and smiles at the other man as they wait for their drinks. "Nothing to worry about. I've seen worse."

Professor Greerson doesn't answer, only frowns more. Harry starts his tea, careful not to make it too hot.

Detective LaValle's voice softens, is less bombastic, as he says, "I really am fine, you know."

Professor Greerson takes a breath. "Go out with me. On a date. Here or somewhere else."

Harry almost spills coffee beans everywhere. She rights the bag and looks up to see that sunrise smile on Detective LaValle's face. "I'd like that. I'd like that very much."

"One tea with a splash of milk, and one chili mocha," Harry says as she sets down their drinks on the counter.

"Thank you- oh, new name tag," Detective LaValle says as he collects both drinks. "Assistant manager, eh? Congratulations on the promotion."

"Thank you, Harriet," Professor Greerson tells her and well, that's going to take some getting used to, after years of telling everyone to call her Harry.

"'Harriet?'" Charlie asks as he settles at the end of the counter. "Glad you accepted the promotion, by the by."

Harry- _Harriet_ watches Greerson and LaValle settle at one of the small tables with their drinks. Olive will be sad she missed this and Steven will probably say that if all it took to get them together was LaValle getting hurt, he'd have taken care of it ages ago. Taylor will be smug forever that she won the bet.

"Yeah, Harriet now," she confirms and smiles at Charlie. "What would you like today?"

Charlie smiles back. "Surprise me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap, people! Ended a little faster than even I expected, but I'm thinking of writing more for this 'verse, probably things happening outside the coffee shop, too.


End file.
